On a Mission
by InsertContradictingPenName
Summary: She is a being driven purely by the thought of revenge. No matter the form or level of cruelty as long as her cause is justified, she is happy. And the only way to discover how such a sick beast exists is to see through her eyes.


There is no good way to begin a story about a ruthless killer. I can't conjure up some smiling elves or call upon a chipper dolphin. For our main character is a disgusting miscarriage of justice. I can't glorify her in any way, shape, or form and I can't find any logical reason for you to respect her. I'm afraid, as the narrator, I can't help you, the reader, in any way. It seems that in this story you'll have to form an opinion for yourself. Whether it is good or bad, neither I nor the main character will care. In fact, I'm sure she'll be overjoyed to know how wretched she is. She is a being driven purely by the thought of revenge. No matter the form or level of cruelty as long as her cause is justified, she is happy. And the only way to discover how such a sick beast exists is to see through her eyes.

"Don't worry, I'll tell the others Mean Missy Makina lost her temper and sliced you up real good!" her voice rang clearly through the metal hallways. She pivoted on her heels, the grossly audible snap joining the echo of her speech as it bounded off the walls. The female's impressive height made her all the more intimidating as she watched her prey's feeble attempt at freedom. She smiled. Was there nothing more beautiful than an already dead man on the verge of death? Taking care of her lusty need for this grotesque activity made her weak at the knees. Figuratively, of course, for someone of such high merit to allow any part of his or her body to weaken even momentarily would be a grave mistake. Her targets, all idiotic creatures forged of pure disgust and insolence, were not to be taken lightly. No matter what position they were in, they seemed able to find a way out. While she was extremely confident in her prowess and prestige, she did admit to the fact that the beings she despised possessed unimaginable power.

"I... We... We trusted you..." the speech that croaked free from the prey's blood spattered mouth was music to her ears. She drew her thin lips back to reveal perfectly aligned rectangles of pearly white. Her grin could have been seen from space.

"I know. That was pretty stupid of you, wasn't it?" she stepped off of her opponent's shredded wrist. While it may have seemed like a kind gesture at the time, it was only to allow a seat to be taken on the man's torn back. Her smile widened as she spoke,

"Oh well, I guess I'll just keep maiming you boys one by one until I reach my goal."

"What... More could... You... Possibly... Want?" the sentence was chopped and segmented by sharp gasps and coughs that threatened to reduce the entire jail to rubble. After eight hours off absolute torture, the seriously unlucky victim of a seriously unstable female was on the literal verge of death. He could see the light, beckoning him in as it twisted and curled like a living being, but his body was not yet light enough to ascend due to a thick mass of flesh perched on his lumbar. The female rested her head against the cool, blood stained metal walls of her area of endless confinement. Her eyes drifted upwards into a lolling sense of dreamy pleasure, appearing as though she were contemplating the importance of humanity and all those who were a part of it. Then, she stood abruptly. She walked with sharply planted footsteps, ducking down to speak with her prey once again. After gripping the man's head, she lifted it up to perfect conversation height.

"Why, I'd very much like to exterminate every last member of your kind and roast their disgusting heads on an open fire." her cheerful voice made her statement all the more horrifying. The man felt utterly lost. He knew the female job description involved nothing but hunting down and destroying his kind, he knew very well that she took pleasure in doing so. But why would someone want to entirely rid the world of Deadmen? Before he could go on to ponder the question, a crushing pressure began to build within his skull.

He was pulled onto his feet, the only source of distraction from his horrid fate was to look at the malevolent creature who'd brought such and undignified death upon him. She was a superbly tall female, standing at and easily reached six feet, with long yet bulky legs composed of pure muscle. The fleshy stems ended at formless hips and an equally unchanging waist. Her stomach consisted of six rippling abdominal muscles, so well-defined it appeared as though someone had carved them into her flesh. Above that was a set of rather small breasts and two shoulders with such perfectly toned mass a high school quarterback would be exceptionally envious.

Yet her arms made the rest of her body pale in comparison. They were two enormous tubes of absolute muscle, so much, in fact, that they forced every vein up against the thick skin coating her body. And what they were attached to also had great effect on the way she looked. Instead of a pair of toned hands, two positively enormous lumps hung off her wrists. Metal gloves, complete with five gigantic fingers each, had been welded to her flesh. She appeared comical, something one would laugh at and label as a manic cosplayer if they saw her on the street. But these gloves were quite different. They had been created especially for her, forged just so she would be able to perform her job with heightened accuracy and success. Each digit had been outfitted with a strange blue dot that strongly resembled a delicious candy of some sort.

To the naked eye, the sapphire circles were no more than eccentric decor, but they provided an extremely important service. In all honesty, she looked far more like a body builder than a schoolgirl, even though the outfit she wore would like to prove otherwise. The once cleanly tatters of a school uniform hung from her impressive mass almost comically. Only about half of her blood caked dress shirt was left and the smiling blue skirt had been turned into a rag whose cloths tendrils reached only to the middle of her thigh. Her hair, however, had somehow remained perfectly styled after years of brutal abuse and insanity. The blackened bob of pristine sheen was perched exactly atop her head and looked very similar to that of a young model's.

A set of glossy, straight cut bangs traveled expertly over her rather large forehead, meeting the opposite side in time to cover a grouping of unattractive red dots. She had curled the very tips of the two strands that hugged her blanched cheeks so well that they just barely met the edges of her eerily sharp jawbones. It appeared as though she'd taken years to style the monstrous mane. And, to be honest, the accusation was correct. But after half a decade of precarious styling, she had finally discovered the only existing technique for complimenting one's muscles. She was quite proud of herself. Her voice indicated this as she spoke,

"Bye bye!" with a mighty tug, all that was left of the man was a sack of mutilated bone and torn flesh.

That left a very satisfied Niku Byoki to wander back to her place of business with an enormous smile plastered over her cheeks.

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_**Wellp. All I can say is that I fucking adore deadman wonderland and I've been totally hoping to write some FF for it~ Hopefully you guys dig it! And hopefully you dudes will review too! Thanks for reading~**_

_**-ICPN**_


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